It was the nature of things.
Though on the surface it seemed every person was different, this was not true.
At the core of each lay suffering; our eventual end, the many losses we must experience on the way to that end.
We must try to see one another this way.
As suffering, limited beings --
Perennially outmatched by circumstance, inadequately endowed with compensatory graces.
His sympathy extended to all in this instant, blundering, in its strict logic, across all divides.
He was leaving here broken, awed, humbled, diminished.
Ready to believe anything of this world.
Made less rigidly himself through his loss.
Therefore quite powerful.
Reduced, ruined, remade.
Merciful, patient, dazzled. ”
(So why grieve?
The worst of it, for him, is over.)
Because I loved him so and am in the habit of loving him and that love must take the form of fussing and worry and doing.
Only there is nothing left to do.”
And her head.”
but once, and a long
Thereafter eat till
your stomach spills over
No more! you’ll cry
too full for your eyes
The words will wait”
Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.”
Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep,
And each imagin'd pinnacle and steep
Of godlike hardship tells me I must die
Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky.”